


Alighted on my waters

by PandaFlower



Category: Naruto
Genre: Curses, I got a bow and arrow, M/M, and the breaking thereof, but they ARE how you start a quest, in which cupid's arrow is more abrupt and literal than Izuna was prepared for, indulgent af, strange swans emerging from ponds are not how you start a love story, swan lake AU, where love may happen, who needs true love's kiss??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFlower/pseuds/PandaFlower
Summary: In which Itama goes looking for a break and ends up with a quest.He would just like to reiterate, for the nth time, that he is not magical.





	Alighted on my waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puzzle_shipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puzzle_shipper/gifts).



_Schnik. Schnik. Schnik._

The soft susurrus of a knife through wood was almost enough to cover the unsteady hitched breaths of the carver, shoulders trembling with suppressed temper. Steadily, and with steady spite, Itama amassed a neat pile of arrow shafts waiting to be feathered.

It wasn’t done in their family, in _Butsuma’s_ vision of their family. Itama ground his teeth, tossing a scrap of cedar across the secluded clearing. Their grandfather had been a soldier, a mercenary, and a swordsman, Butsuma was a soldier, a mercenary, and a swordsman, and by god if he had his way every one of his sons would follow him. How _proud_ his father was of their family history of frontliners.

How sorely disappointed he was to find his thirdborn preferred the bow.

It didn’t matter how viciously Hashirama argued there was no war that needed their swords, how logically Tobirama tried to point out the practicality of diversification, or how valuable Itama was as a huntsman when jobs were scarce. Swordsmen their line were, and Butsuma wouldn’t hear otherwise. It was enough to make Itama cry with frustration.

_Schnik. Schnik. Schnik._

So here he was, angrily replacing his latest quiver of arrows after Butsuma found his latest stash and smashed them, fervently wishing to be _free_ of the old bastard’s influence.

Glue. Goose feathers. Sharpen. Soon enough he’d filled his quiver with one part relief and two parts fuck you.

“ _Itama?_ ”

Itama jolted upright, head cocked to listen. Tobirama called his name again, closer, and Itama hurriedly scrambled to his feet, gathering up his quiver and bow and darted off further into the forest. He didn’t want to talk to Tobirama right now. Tobirama would sooth his temper, point out how soon Hashirama was to take over their mercenary troop, how he’d never have to put up with Butsuma again and, and Itama didn’t want that right now. Itama wanted to be _mad_ just a little longer.

Over fallen trunk and under leafy bough, Itama trekked further and further in, past all signs of human trails. Unwise? Probably. His temper sparked too high to care. It was peaceful here, all the little signs of a healthy thriving forest, with dappled sunlight green and gold to light his way. Involuntarily, Itama felt his hold on anger slip away, shoulders relaxing, near buoyant with strange cheer.

Maybe he’d hunt for something while he’s out here; wild game would be a nice change from chicken. Smoothly, Itama shifted his gait to minimize noise, gaze roaming and ear cocked for something to chase. A shadow passed over head and Itama looked up in time to see large bird through a gap in the trees, gliding by. He grinned, and followed.

Itama ended up smelling the pond before he saw it, the clarity of water cutting through leaf mulch and moss like a beacon. Then he heard the splashing of wings on water as a bird alighted on its surface. Carefully, he slowed. With delicate movements he strung an arrow, taking cover behind a low, leafy branch. He pulled the bowstring back and waited for whichever bird it was to come into view, the ripples growing larger in its wake.

It took long enough to make his arms shake, but Itama was patient, always had been, entire world narrowed down to steady breaths, and the end of his arrow, ready to let fly.

A magnificent swan floated into view, head turned to preen a back feather. Itama nearly whistled, a swan that size was dinner and a pillow.

_Not yet._

The swan dunked its head, arched it back and shook its neck to cast off excess water.

_Not yet._

Then the swan spread its wings, making to rinse the feathers.

_Now!_

The arrow flew.

The arrow landed dead center.

The swan exploded into light with an indignant squawk.

“Uh,” Itama said.

Well then. You don’t see that everyday.

The scatter of light coalesced into— something that fell into the pond with an enormous splash before Itama could get a good look at it. Maybe now was a good time to rejoin his family, wasn’t it getting a little dark out? Itama made it two steps before something— _someone,_ he corrected, flailed to the surface with a desperate gasp.

“Alright,” the bedraggled stranger wheezed, “Who the hell though it was funny to shoot me?” He punctuated the statement by waving Itama’s arrow around, other hand trying to push long, wet, dark hair out of his face.

Awkwardly, Itama inched out from behind the low branch, waving sheepishly. “Uh, hi?”

A indecipherable look passed over the swan man’s face before indignation took it over and he surged out of the pond, looking very pathetic and ungainly in his soaked indigo robes and clinging, dark hair, very different from his sleek white feathers. Still, he managed an impressive scowl. “What kind of sorcerer are you, huh? Who just goes around breaking curses with arrows, I ask you!”

“I’m...not a sorcerer?” Itama tried. This whole afternoon was just getting further and further out of hand.

The swan man squinted disbelievingly, cursed, shoved his wet hair out his face with both hands this time and squinted at Itama again, and, huh. He’s...really pretty, Itama noted. Pretty the way the his swan form was, sleek and raptorish and fierce of eye. Swan man shifted his squint to the arrow he was still clutching, then to the quiver over Itama’s shoulder.

Then he marched over to yank on the strap. Itama yelped in offense and kicked his shin instinctively. It was the swan’s turn to yelp, losing his balance and pulling them both down with his determined grip on Itama’s quiver strap.

“What the hell!” swan man repeated. “Firstly, you are the rudest sorcerer I’ve ever met, and secondly—” he yanks the strap hard enough to jerk it over Itama’s shoulder and spill the arrows everywhere, “how can you say you’re not a sorcerer when these arrows have been imbued with the desire to cast off malicious influence? Not a sorcerer, my entire feathery ass!”

Itama recalled wanting his father’s influence out of his life as he carved his arrows, and flushed. “But I’m really not magical at all! I can’t be a sorcerer,” Itama retorted, ducking out the strap to glare at the swan man from a better distance, grabbing a handful of arrows as he went. Itama was his best at a distance. “You’re the one going around as a swan, Swan Man, how do I know you’re not a sorcerer?”

“That’s not my name!” Swan man squawked, eerily similar to his bird form shooting a wary glance at Itama’s bow.

“Well, it’s not like you gave me one to call you by,” Itama shot back defensively. “You just crawled out of a pond to shout at me. What am I supposed to think?”

“Okay,” Swan man exhaled gustily, raising his hands in a peaceable gesture. “Okay. Let me start this over. My name is Izuna, and I live a cursed existence.” The disbelieving squint was back. “Or at least I did until you _shot_ me.”

“If you’re trying, you aren’t trying very hard,” Itama said after a moment. Izuna flung his hands up and stomped back to the pond to wring himself out. “Ugh, fine! I’m Itama, and I’m not magical in any way no matter what you say.” He muttered to his himself, “And I think I preferred it when I thought of you as dinner.”

A very loud, exasperated sigh answered him.

“Fine,” Izuna parroted. “You’re not magical. Your _arrows_ are magical and you’re just very good at shooting them. Better?”

Itama flushed angrily, grabbing his quiver.

“I’m leaving!” he snapped, turning to do just that.

“What?” Izuna yelped in alarm, scrambling over, and then falling over when he slipped on wet grass, he ended up clutching at Itama’s ankle. “Wait wait wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to mock! I mean, I _did_ but not meanly!”

Itama thought very hard about wrenching out of his grip and leaving anyway.

“Please, I need your help!”

Itama looked back.

Izuna cautiously let go long enough to get to his feet, grabbing for Itama’s sleeve. “I need your help,” he repeated.

“With?” Itama asked, pretty much against his better judgement. Evening shadows were beginning to crawl out, his brother’s were undoubtedly worried as to where he was.

“It’s, it’s a bit of a story,” Izuna said reluctantly. “Some generations back this asshole sorcerer, Hagoromo, told his eldest son — my ancestor — he was out of the running for successor by cursing him to turn into an animal by day. There’s some fairy tale bullshit about learning humility, but I have some fairly humble cousins and they’re still cursed. I don’t care how magical you say you aren’t, you did something that _worked._ I need you to try again.”

“I—” Itama blinked incredulously. “You want me to shoot your entire family?”

“Please,” Izuna said solemnly, eyes wide. “I don’t want them to live like this anymore.” He leaned close, eyes wide, whispering, “And between you and me? My brother really, really deserves an arrow in the ass.”

Itama guffawed.

“So you’ll do it? Pretty please?” Izuna wheedled.

“I—” Itama paused, torn. He _wanted_ to help, of course he did, but. His brothers. He looked at Izuna’s pleading, dark eyes, the handle of his bow smooth and reassuring in his palm. His brothers could look after each other. It seemed Itama had something to do. “Let me leave a note for my brothers first.”

It’d be nice to get away from Butsuma for awhile. They’d understand.

Izuna beamed.

That smile was going to lead Itama down foolish paths, he just knew it.

It’d be worth it. Probably.

 


End file.
